Friday, April 29, 2005

Hot and cold

Today was a day of reminders -- that a good night does not equal a good day, that smiles in the morning don't mean smiles later on, that a parental cold streak can quickly end, and that Ella is a gem and a darling with lots of patience for her baby sister (but not endless patience -- tonight, Ella said that she wishes Lindsay was a baby that didn't cry at all; and she also said, "Everything bad is happening" as Lindsay cried in the car and Ella's spilled goldfish crackers all over).

It's Friday night at 9:45, and I've already fallen asleep on the couch once. So we'll keep this short. But for documentation purposes:

Tomorrow we host a play date for three of Ella's friends from school: Grace (the future lesbian?), Caramia and Zoe. It should be fun!


Wednesday, April 27, 2005

My determined angel

Lord knows I whined like a little bitch enough about the whole Boise thing (for a refresher, see here and here). And even after all that, my angel of a wife came through for me today on a basketball-related errand, of all things. Here's the tale, briefly.

Once I decided not to go to Boise, it was some salve to know that the NCAA regionals would be in Oakland next year -- less than 2 miles from my house. I researched the ticket process over the course of several days...and then promptly forgot all about it until yesterday, the day before the ticket application had to be submitted. Holy crap, methinks! I'm going to miss it! And the application had to be in the hot little hands of whoever is handling this deal -- not mailed. And the box office for drop-offs -- open from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m. Not so convenient for me, so I asked Nicola if she would take the application over. She graciously said yes, and the ordeal subsequently involved packing up a jittery baby, battling traffic for a rare mid-day A's game, talking her way into the parking lot to avoid paying $14, finding the box office, waiting in line as the previously mentioned baby went from jittery to meltdown, and THEN it started to rain on the way back to the car. Even after all that -- she perservered and turned in the application.

Naturally, I fell all over myself saying thank you and sorry at the same time. Nicola is kind and thoughtful, so I suppose I was not too surprised at her efforts on my behalf. But still -- pretty heroic (I use this word cognizant of its overuse and misapplication) and downright sweet. She said she was about to give up...but she realized that I would make every effort to complete a task for her if I knew it meant as much to her as the tickets did to me. Make sense, in a run-on-sentence kind of way? This statement of hers gave me pause...would I really do that? I can point to more than my share of selfish acts, including some real doozies. But yes, I absolutely would do this for Nicola...and much more. Turning in all the metaphorical ticket applications in the world would not repay adequately what she gives to me each and every day, but I'll keep trying.

And you, Bean -- I'm not giving up on you and me as a couple, even though we've had some rough stretches the last couple of nights. Mommy tells me that it's normal for a baby at this stage of development to begin to demonstrate some preferences for people, particularly toward the primary caregiver. So you and Mommy got this nice rapport going, and I come home from work and scoop you up, and out comes a less-than-happy noise (at least lately). I don't take it personally; some day, when you know me a little better, you'll think I hung the moon and painted the rainbows, just for you. So don't worry, Lindsay, about my occasional frustrated tone or body language. I'm overflowing with second chances for adorable little ones like you...and those smiles replenish my soul, so keep those up too.

Monday, April 25, 2005

Crisis of confidence

Lindsay's passed the 2-month mark officially, as of yesterday, and developments abound. Smiles, a giggle (so Nicola tells me), cooing, drooling. All significant, of course. She's also in a tweener stage, 'tween sleeping wherever works and sleeping where we (they?) think she should be sleeping. The almighty swing has lost some of its luster, but it still works pretty consistently. The key is getting her basically asleep before you put her in the swing...and it is this task that I failed tonight...that led to my crisis of confidence. There are times when I just don't feel like I know what the hell I'm doing as a father. Maybe I think that I should have all the answers and a few tricks up my sleeve from having gone through this before, and yet it seems like I've struggled to find a way (ways) to soothe Lindsay when she's upset or tired.

Tonight, as I was coming home on the train, I was thinking that I really wanted to give Nicola a break, because last night was choppy and the day sounded like it had been draining. So, I thought, I'll go home and I'll just take over with Lindsay for a few hours to help out. We went on a long walk together -- all of us -- right away, which was great, and then I ran to the pet store as Lindsay nursed. When I got back, maybe a little after 7, Lindsay was on the verge of sleeping (so we thought). I changed her diaper...and 45 minutes later, still no slumber. We tried wakling, rocking, upright hold, sideways hold, lying on the bed, shhhing, pacifier, no pacifier, gripe water, singing, TV as background noise, and so on. And Lindsay's adorable little eyes just wouldn't shut. Nicola "The Closer" came in to finish her off...and I sulked, beating myself up for my inability to get our daughter to sleep.

I suppose I should try to take the long view here. My previous fathering experience should, at the very least, remind me that the first 3 months+ are a circus of never-ending variation and mystery. What works one day (minute) doesn't work the next. Signals are missed and mixed. Needs are changing. Bodies and rhythms are changing. So...cut yourself some slack. If you can't solve the problem or provide the miracle trick, do your part by being present and being present often. Is there an undercurrent of guilt here, because Nicola has spared me some of the overnight rituals? Perhaps. More than likely.

I greatly hesitate to quote Dr. Phil, but I should be a "soft place to land" for Nicola and Lindsay at the end of a long day, and my contributions can come in many forms. This is a challenging and magical time all at once. I guess you can say that about most times in a child's life, and yet I find myself...awaiting the "easier" times ahead. Next month/next year will be good...but not better? Just good in a different way than right now is good. And it is good, my worries about my flagging fathering skills aside. Right before our eyes, a little person is developing. Hey, Lindsay, you don't even know what roses are yet, but thanks for reminding me to smell them every once in a while. And Nicola...thanks for your patience and love and support and for doing what you do with such love, grace and purpose. You inspire me.

Friday, April 22, 2005

Shoot first, cry later

Lindsay had her first innoculations today -- 2 sticks in the right leg, 1 in the left. I must say she did better than I anticipated -- howling and a red flush to her face, but just moments later a quiet collapse into sleep. She proceeded to doze for the next 1 or 2 hours, actually, allowing Nicola and I to take a stroll down Park Street, visit the bookstore and get my hair cut.

The pertinent stats: 9 lb, 6 oz (home weighing must be wildly off -- we recorded this like two weeks ago), 22 inches (she has shrunk since Monday at Children's Hospital). On the right curve on the growth chart, about 25th percentile for weight and 50th for height (or 75th, if you ask the fine folks at Children's!). Tall and skinny -- it could be worse for a young lady! Obviously, we are going to nervously watch her weight throughout life and begin obsessing over it with her the minute she can understand what we're saying. How else is she going to become a Hollywood starlet and support me in my planned life as a Stage Dad Who Can't Stay Out of the Tabloids unless she has body image issues? I sense an afterschool special in the making.

Nuggets of 5-Year-Old Wisdom from Ella:

It was a great but quick night with Ella...she was in full goofy mode, singing along with Ralph in the car and making funny faces and just being silly. I love that she's so un-selfconscious now -- acting crazy without any concern for how she's being perceived. That's the freedom and innocence of youth for ya! I just wish these alternate Thursdays weren't so short -- by the time I picked up Ella, we had barely two hours together. Not nearly enough to cover the time from one Sunday to the following Thursday, and Michelle has completely refused my requests to turn these nights into overnights. I'm going to have to 1) get more forceful and adamant; and 2) take this to mediation if necessary.

On a closing note, Lindsay gave me the most beautiful smile when I got home from work last night. Those little looks of recognition and little smiles are everything right now!

Later, she went through a rough patch, and Nicola and I talked about how she (Nicola) is often swooping in to rescue me when I can't seem to get Lindsay calmed down. I think I'm used to my tried-and-true tricks -- the way I hold her or talk to her as I attempt to soothe -- working, and when they don't, I get stuck. Nicola is wonderful at methodically trying many things to figure out what Lindsay needs at the moment, and I'm going to get better at that too so I can support her better.

We also talked about my blog from the other night. That's another story, I guess...but I'm realizing that the power of our love and the strength of our relationship, while both representing the essential foundation of us, are not enough when they remain silent...in the sense that we both know we have this solid foundation, but it's the little things you say and do (and what you don't say and do) that make the difference between ordinary and extraordinary.

Not sure that makes sense, but it's Friday at 5 p.m. and I'm heading "home" to help out and be with my ladies.


Wednesday, April 20, 2005

A look back at The Night

Eight weeks ago tonight, the Taggart household in Alameda was abuzz with activity, as bags were prepared, contractions were timed, backs were massaged and nerves were crackling with excitement. If you haven't figured it out, it was the night Nicola went into labor...and 16 hours later, there was Miss Lindsay!

I have already begun the process of documenting that eventful evening, but I did not get around to finishing the blow by blow description. Now that I have 2 months' worth of perspective, I think the minute details of the birth are less important than the overall feelings and memories...gee, I suppose as revelations go this is no great shakes, but it's what serves for inspiration tonight.

Nicola and I talked at dinner tonight about the night her labor started and the whole delivery process. Our memories are already starting to soften around the edges a little, and we struggled to agree on a few details: did we listen to music before and after the epidural, or only after? I guess that's not important either.

What I remember is the way we seemed to narrow our focus, to develop tunnel vision almost. It was like the world collapsed down to the labor and delivery room, once we got there (by way of a quick stop at triage). We were in the L&D room by 1 a.m., and the lights were low, and the contractions were rolling, and this tiny little friendly nurse (name?) was in and out of the room, and Nicola was laboring...really trying to work her way through the contractions. And Tom and Phoenix had hopped in the car and were on the way down, and we'd made a few other calls to let people know that a baby was on the way. But everything else outside the couch, the bed and the floor space between them didn't matter...almost didn't exist. We were in our own heads, grappling with the physical (Nicola) and emotional (both) challenges of the moment. We were in each other's heads too, right there together for every second...not expressing overpowering emotions, but not having too either, because the experience was the emotion.

Nicola tonight recalled when she got the epidural, and she was hunched forward, exposing her spine to the miracle man known as the anesthesiologist. Our foreheads were pressed together, our hands clasped. I was so proud of her for how she had weathered the storm so far, and so relieved that something was being done to reduce the pain (the phones on our floor had gone out just as Nicola requested the epidural, resulting in an inability to contact the epidural guy and a delay of about 30 minutes).

After the epidural, we dozed a bit, we waited for progress. It was an intimate delivery, in a way. Not like TV, with squads of nurses shuffling around. It was Nicola, me and the chatty former military nurse from Alameda, and then at the end, Dr. Carper (present for only the last 2-3 pushes).

I'm sure I'm writing just about the worst recap of a delivery in the world. The words feel inadequate, because there is no way to describe the pure joy you feel as your baby emerges. "Miracle" falls short. For me, there were tears and happiness and an elation beyond...just beyond, I guess. And numbness, to some extent. "You did it!" I kept saying to Nicola. "You did it." I wish I had expressed to her everything I felt at that second...old demons held me back, unfortunately. What I felt and should have said: "Nicola, I'm so proud of you for how you came through this -- so strong, so focused, so amazing. I have never loved you more than I do at this very moment. Thank you for choosing me and for sharing this life with me. I adore you!"

Something like that. Hallmark won't come knocking anytime soon, but I hope you get the idea. Maybe you won't understand, if you aren't a parent. There's a power and a gripping, unrelenting quality to parental love...you are forever in this child's sway and you'd anything to make her life better.

All in all, Lindsay's delivery went very smoothly, and Nicola and I have positive emotional memories of this shared experience. But as she said, "Everything after we left the delivery room...I don't like to think about that." Details for another time, but suffice it to say that the accommodations were less than optimal and we couldn't wait to get home.

I think lurking in the shadows of this generally positive delivery experience is Lindsay's ear thing. It was one of the first things I noticed about her when they placed her still-gooey little body on Nicola's chest, left ear up. It was a fleeting thing, but I did notice it and wondered if the ear got a bit mangled during the baby's journey. Turned out to be something a bit more permanent...still manageable and something we and Lindsay will deal with, I'm confident. But in some way it did intrude on our tiny little pocket of peace and love and new baby euphoria.

Well, to end on a positive note -- Lindsay's expressive face and bright eyes push aside any other worries or concerns. In her little face I can still find the euphoria and the peace and the love...just like her mom's eyes. It's where I belong.

Monday, April 18, 2005


April 16, 2005

Mixed blissing

I really wanted to write an entry that extolled the virtues of Baby's Bliss Gripe Water, a mysterious herbal concoction that many mothers (ok, a few we know) swear by for helping with colic and gas issues. And good lord, we've got those...I mean Lindsay does. So I bought some of this water at an all-natural store in Alameda the other day, dropping $16 on a rather small but handsome blue bottle. We dosed Lindsay up on Friday night, and proceeded to have one of the best nights we'd had in about two weeks. Long stretches of sleep followed by feeding followed by more sleep -- ahhh! And Saturday was great too - a picnic in the park with Ella and my parents (the season's first sunburn for me -- an annual rite of spring!), not much yelping on Lindsay's part, etc. But I can't yet swear by the gripe water, because since Saturday night it's been the usual roller coaster ride. Happy hang out time with traces of a smile on Lindsay's face...followed (often abruptly) by relentless crying and screaming. The no-matter-what-I-do-the-screams-get-louder-and-the-little-face-gets-redder kind of meltdowns. The kind of meltdown that led to us fleeing from Target on Sunday, haphazardly dropping items on random shelves to unload the stroller. (Eventually she calmed down, and I dropped Nicola and Ella off for a dash through Target while I drove a 7.7-mile loop around the back roads of Hayward; mission accomplished: 17 minutes of shopping and Lindsay kept sleeping.)

So, we're still in the hit-and-miss stage of child rearing. And gripe water may have its moments ahead too -- we aren't giving up! The unknowns are to be expected...but doesn't make them any easier. Lindsay tore through another round of wailing at Children's Hospital today, where we saw a very cool doctor by the name of Dr. Gizzi (pronounced like "Prizzi" in "Prizzi's Honor"). He checked out Lindsay's ear -- "There's a lot of ear there," says Dr. G, and that's a good thing when you're talking about microtia -- and told us about what's next. And what's next is about 5 years of close tracking of her hearing, ear health (infections), facial bone development, facial nerve symmetry, speech development and more. It sound imposing, written out like that, and of course I'd prefer to not have to deal with the craniofacial panel at Children's...but Dr. G was very reassuring, and we're fortunate (as I've said) to have a hospital like this nearby where we'll get good case management and care.

I highly doubt anyone cares enough to warrant me posting the following, but what the hell -- here is the e-mail synopsis (stream of consciousness style) of today's appointment, as I sent to Nicola:

Dr. Gizzi -- wonderful!

"there's a lot of ear there"
not sure of the cause; could be a restriction in blood flow during the development
unilateral hearing loss (on one side) does not necessarily impact developmnent
talk to her all the time -- lots of stimulation
growth (ht, wt) seems on schedule

additional hearing tests will be done eventually
ear canal in left appear appears narrow; he couldn't really tell what was at the end
right ear appears normal
will be meeting with an ENT specialist next. our case will be managed by a craniofacial team, incorporating all the necessary specialists.
ENT will tell examine ear and tell us more about internal structure if possible.
will need to see ENT every couple of months to watch out for health of "good" ear
referral to speech therapist (just in case) at 12-18 months.
will be watching development of facial bones (can be a problem -- not developing at same rate). examination by doctor, he says her face looks symmetrical at this point. also, facial nerves seem to be fine.
full "panel" review at about age 5 to discuss options (reconstruction, etc.)
skin tag is related. could be removed at any time.


Our ENT appointment is May 4...MWBR at that point.

Children's Hospital is a place that, fortunately and unfortunately, provides perspective. Down the hall from where we were was the neurology/neurosurgery department. Yikes. And you see enough very, very sick kids there to break your heart and uplift it (in our case) at the same time, because suddenly a tiny ear seems like a pretty tiny matter. I think Nicola and I have kept a pretty healthy perspective on it...yes, we wish everything is perfect, and yes, we know we're lucky that Lindsay has such good overall health, and no, we don't dwell on this one little thing.

Wrap up. Big week at work ahead, with training to plan and participate in.

Wednesday, April 13, 2005


Lindsay graciously covering my double chin.


Mother and child moment.


Sisters, April 2005

Early notice

In the mail today was a release form from the Alameda school district, addressed to us as Lindsay's parents. It basically says we allow the school system to receive records Children's Hospital pertaining to Lindsay's ear...and I'm thinking, "Already? She won't go to school for five years!" And then I'm thinking, "Wait -- this is from the special education folks. I don't like the feel of that one bit! My daughter won't need that kind of help!" But, I suppose she might, and on the other hand, isn't it nice how thorough the response has been to the "lucky ear" situation -- different agencies and health care providers all reaching out to offer us help.

Of course, I'm not sure how much help we need yet. Our appointment with the cranio-facial (hideous name -- conjures images of Frankenstein or something) team at Children's is Monday morning. We'll get more information, I think, on what additional tests will be done, what the options for reconstruction are down the road, etc. All things I wish I didn't have to know...but I'm glad we have a Children's Hospital to go to.

I don't know how people live in rural areas. I've never lived more than about 30 minutes from a major airport, and I've almost always lived in major metropolitan areas (Chapel Hill notwithstanding). I wouldn't say I'm a city boy, but I do enjoy being near the amenities and activities of the big city. Chatham was a small town, but New York was right there, and so on. I imagine I would go a bit stir crazy, living in a remote or isolated region. I suppose I'd get a lot of reading done!

I didn't really have a clear idea tonight of what I wanted to write about...so as a result, it's a complete hodge podge. I think I'll post some photos instead.

For the record: I worked from home today because Nicola was feeling under the weather and neither of us got much sleep last night. God bless the AAO and my awesome boss.

Tuesday, April 12, 2005

Time warp

I was trying to think of a way to describe the way time expands when you are dealing with a crying baby. It's a phenomenon where seconds feel like minutes, and minutes feel like days. Not quite like waiting at the DMV, or any other example where time feels like it's standing still. Because the feeling isn't time slowing...it's time becoming magnified, or something.

A 2-minute screaming jag is just about enough to make you do anything to make it stop. Sadness, helplessness and anxiety swirl together, with just a dash of frustration...or more than a dash in some people, I guess. It's scary, but you can actually get in touch with -- maybe just graze by -- the emotions of someone who goes too far with a baby. I hesitate to even say this, because perhaps it implies an awareness of dangerous behavior that then implies a capacity to behave dangerously. But really, no worries. I'm cool. It's just that in the throes of it, when you can't figure out what to do to help your helpless little one and the screaming won't stop, you understand the frustration, even the desperation.

And Lindsay isn't even really that bad...in fact, she's pretty good most of the time. But I guess today was a rough day, with little sleep and lots of ruckus. I came home at 5 p.m. (a bit early -- caught an earlier ferry) to pitch in, as Nicola had one of those days. You know they are a possibility, but there's little you can do to prepare. Just hang on and ride it out. I arrived, and Lindsay's been asleep all but about an hour since then. Making up for lost time, I guess.

But I've experienced the panicky "What the hell do I do know to calm this baby down?!?" feeling...as recently as Friday, when Nicola ducked out for some errands. I was exhausted, after having been up from about 3 - 6 a.m. with Lindsay that morning, and she woke up right after Nicola left, and she wasn't having any of me. Just wasn't interested. It's weird how your attitude can vary from time to time. That afternoon, I felt anxious at Lindsay's distress, and we got into a nice anxiety/distress loop. Much fun -- I really recommend. And then there are times at night -- 2 a.m., 4 a.m., whenever -- that you should be short on patience and tired etc., but instead I'm serene and calm and happy to be spending time with the Bean. And there is absolutely no way to predict which of these moods will strike...at least no way that I've discovered.

10 minutes and out tonight. Off to sleep and perchance to swaddle/cuddle/shush/diaper [repeat]!

Monday, April 11, 2005

Ain't it so

Nicola, 10:25 p.m., April 11, 2005:

"There's nothing quite so cute as a baby falling asleep in your arms."

No way I can deny that, as I lay there with Lindsay asleep in the crook of my left arm. I personally think she's adorable even when she's screaming so loud and long that her lower lip starts quivering and her sounds get vibrato.

Today was a milestone day of sorts, I think. Nicola saw a smile on Lindsay's face for the first time, and while I've seen some smiles in the last couple days, today I came home and saw a glimmer of recognition AND a smile when the Little Bean saw me for the first time. It was like, "Daddy's home!" and that was a very cool feeling. And it will only get better (I should write more on this topic -- I did last week, on Thursday, talking compellingly about the backwards and forwards focus I sense us being drawn to, instead of now, the moment; I know, the segue isn't really there, but I got frustrated last week when that post disappeared and I'm just reminding myself to go back and write on this topic again).

Other reminders:

Got to get better about sparing 10 minutes a night for this.


Wednesday, April 06, 2005

Sweetheart

A couple of oh-so-cute things Ella has done recently:

First of all, there was the time that she was holding Lindsay in her lap, and Lindsay was a little bit fussy. And Ella was saying, ever so gently: "Oh, sweetheart. It's OK sweetheart. Don't be upset. Your big sister is here. All you need is your mommy and daddy and big sister." It was a downright Hallmarkian moment, I tell ya. Ella just can't get enough of being a big sister -- as demonstrated by the star pendant she is still wearing around her neck. We gave it to her on Feb. 24 in the hospital, sort of for her birthday and sort of as something special for her on Lindsay's "big day." We thought she'd like it because Nicola has a similar one that her dad gave her...but when I asked Ella the other day why she wears it, she said, "So I don't forget I'm a big sister." Incredible! And someone remind of this in 10 years when they are fighting over something pedestrian, as siblings will do.

Then there was today, when my phone rang at work at about 10 a.m. It was Ella, calling to tell me about her doctor's appointment and how brave she'd been: "I got three shots and I didn't even cry at all!" she says. "I even watched the shots. And I got two stickers, and one of them says 'Be nice to me. I got a shot day.'" I love it when Ella calls me on her own (a little maternal prodding is probably involved, but not always), and it was made even better today when she said she wanted to call Nicola right after she talked to me to tell her the news. Nicola was so touched.

So many precious little moments in a child's life, and they are so easy to forget. I should dig up the old videos of Ella to remind me of what she looked like and acted like as a baby. It becomes so hard to recall them at a younger age, because the age they are at is...just who they are. It's hard to explain. Ella is Ella, and I know she was different at two than she is at five, but the brain blurs the memories together with the present.

To aid in remembering Lindsay, today's snapshot: no poops for 24 hours, then three or four within several hours (mercifully, I was at work); sleeping in my arms on the couch tonight as I struggled to stay awake at 6:30 p.m.; your mom is concerned you are addicted to the "miracle blanket" (aka the straitjacket) and the swing...but whatever works to help you sleep peacefully. Six weeks that have flown by like nothing.


Circling back

I've left more than a few loose ends on this blog, and today I'm of a mind to fix two of them.

One is not easy to conclude: completing my thoughts on the night/day of Lindsay's birth will take some quiet contemplation, which I hope will come later tonight (on the job right now).

One is easy: this post on the F-Line streetcars in San Francisco included some butchered virtual translation of Italian signage. My old high school friend Claudia, a native Italian speaker, kindly corrected BabelFish (and me) with the following:

Italian Streetcar Lesson 101:
DURANTE LA MARCIA REGGERSI AGLI APPOSITI SOSTEGNI - While moving hold on to the handles provided
VIETATO SPUTARE - No Spitting, or It is Forbidden to Spit
IL GUSTO DI RIDERCI SOPRA - roughly as: The satisfaction of having a laugh (over/about it)


Thanks Claudia (who, amazingly enough, has also been to South of the Border! Poor girl).

More later.

Monday, April 04, 2005


Lucky t-shirt, and luckier dad with his little girl (photo taken after first half of Final Four, April 2, 2005)

CHAMPS!

The Tar Heels win it all!! UNC 75, Illinois 70.

In 1993, I cried tears of joy. Tonight, I'm just drained. Exhilirated, but drained. I watched the game and anguished and worried and fretted with Eric Gribbin tonight, and at the end, we embraced and danced around a little. What a great feeling, to have my alma mater -- the location of five of the best years of my life, the place where I made some of my closest friends ever (Gene, Louis, Dave) -- claim this title.

I know there are those who believe that emotional investment in a sports team/franchise over which one has no control whatsoever is folly, not to mention a waste of time in light of all the world's other "important" things. But to love irrationally is a human birthright, and it is one that is not just confined to another person (although that's good too). So, each March/April...and during the Dook games...I get tied up in knots over Carolina. (Tonight, those knots caused me to briefly be a complete tool to Nicola -- my deep apologies, my love) And on the occasions when there is triumph, I rejoice! And I secretly believe just a tiny bit that wearing the same shirt today that I have worn for each game of the tournament makes a difference. How's that for irrational!

Congratulations to the 2004-05 Tar Heels, and farewell to many of them. We the fans thank you for the excitement you bring to us, and for helping us believe in the magic of t-shirts.

I wonder where I'll be the next time? Let's hope it's not 12 more years...I'll be 47 then, and Ella will be 17 and Lindsay will be 12. Yeegads. How old that feels.

On a closing note: my sports allegiance hot streak continues -- Red Sox, then Patriots, now the Heels. Quite a six-month stretch!

This year IS different

Tonight, the Tar Heels take on Illinois for the national championship. Twelve years ago, I watched the boys from UNC win it all at the sports bar in the Grand Hyatt in downtown Washington, D.C. So much has changed since 1993...that really should go without saying, but I do marvel at how far I've come literally and figuratively since then. I mean, this time, I actually have a bank account! I think this habit of "looking back and thinking about where I was/what I was doing on this day last week/month/year/decade" is a Taggart tradition, but I can't really say why. It's just something I do, and I think it's something that my sister and father do, so that's enough to call it a Family Tradition, right?

In late March/early April 1993, I was living in Silver Spring, Md., in a house with either four or five women: high school friends Jocelyn, Cathy and Katherine, Cathy's friend Bridget, and maybe a woman named Holly in the basement. Can't remember when she moved in/out - her stay was brief and painful. It was a 4 bedroom rental house, and my room was basically the converted porch off the back, where I slept on a foam-rubber mattress on the floor (said mattress having been a free throw-in to a dresser I purchased from a friend in Chapel Hill two years earlier). I did have a nice hat rack, and an armoir (?) from Home Depot (yes, I was too poor even for Ikea). I was a reporter for the Northern Virginia Sun, a smaller-than-small daily newspaper that covered Falls Church and Arlington. I bet we had fewer than a couple thousand readers, but damn, I felt like the work I was doing covereing the Arlington schools and everything Falls Church was important. I suppose when your competition is the Falls Church News Press you should not take yourself too seriously. But I did, and I was earning every penny of the $18,000 I was paid (paychecks cashed weekly and stored in my sock drawer -- no, really). I don't think I had a car...but I can't remember. I totalled one Jetta in September (?) 1992 on a highway in North Carolina, and I later bought another lemon Jetta, but not sure when. In the interim, I borrowed Jocelyn's car or rode the Metro to work -- how the hell I worked as a reporter without a car, I'll never know. I was dating a woman named Lorrin Freeman, who had moved from North Carolina after her graduation and was working at a bank (?) and lived in a townhouse somewhere in Northern Virginia. The details have been forcibly removed from my memory by the wretched aftermath of our break-up in the late summer of 1993. Was the break-up wretched, or was the state of my life wretched? Some of each, I think. In hindsight, I don't blame her for dumping me in favor of a law school beau -- I was kind of a mess.

So, that's the glorious state I was in as the 1992-93 Tar Heels took on Michigan for the national title. It was only UNC's second Final Four since the 1982 championship -- the first was my senior year, 1991, when the Heels lost to Kansas in the semifinals...followed by Duke's upset of UNLV and two nights later winning the title...ugh, that sucked. I believe I watched that game at Bub's.

But I digress, mightily. Twelve years ago, I watched Carolina's victory with, among others, Justin McGuire, a UNC grad, former Daily Tar Heel colleague and a Chi Psi. (Tonight, I will watch with Eric Gribbin, a UNC grad, former Daily Tar Heel colleague and a Chi Psi. Hmm.) I was so excited after the George Lynch-led Heels won...very emotional. This run, I've been a lot more reserved and circumspect -- perhaps being 14 years removed from graduation as opposed to two is the difference, or having kids (=perspective?), or maturing? Likely all those.

I no longer live and die by my athletic team allegiances -- no, really! A Red Sox World Series Championship has calmed my most rabid anxieties, and I sweated through that stretch with the "This Year is Different" mantra. So tonight, it will be different -- Roy will get his win, the Tar Heels will be back on top (thereby different from all the ridiculous Dook worship of late) and I can stop wearing this long-sleeved Carolina T-shirt that has served me well karma-wise (except for the Santa Clara game -- that was an aberration).

And as far as I've come, look at how far the Heels have come since the 2001-02 season: 8-20; losses to Ohio, Hampton, Davidson and Charleston; started 5-5, then went 3-15 the rest of the way; a 1-point win over Binghamton; led by Kris Lang and Jason Capel; Adam Boone and Brian Morrison would transfer after the season; 7-6 Neil Fingleton played in his only game (?) for UNC; etc. etc. The ugliness is rampant -- you could go on and on.

But let's not. The Tar Heels are back, This Year is Different. And wouldn't it be nice to have a reason to look back on 2005 and an NCAA title and catalogue my life at some point in the future?

I can think of no logical way to conclude this post. Go Heels!


Friday, April 01, 2005

Road trip #1

Below you'll see a few photos from our March 28-30, 2005, road trip from Alameda to Vista and San Diego, by way of 300 boring-ass (each way) miles of insect-infested freeway.
Total miles driven: about 1100. Most paid for gas: $2.83, at a sucker's exit in the middle of godforsaken nowhwere north of Bakersfield. Interesting things seen: lifeflight helicopter landing on the freeway, a concrete aqueduct taking our Northern California water to the south, an enormous RV towing an almost-as-enormous H2 Humvee, towns in the LA area I've heard of but never cruised by on a freeway (Rancho Cucamonga, San Dimas of "Bill and Ted's" fame, Temecula, etc).

Just thought the photos below could use some context.


First pit stop


Insect roadkill


Pretty boring to the west, too


Me "navigating" I-5 through Central California


Nothing but irrigated flatlands to the east

Back in the saddle

I'm too tired to write much right now. I feel like sleeping or watching some VH1 brain candy would be a better use of my time...however, it's been more than a week since I blogged, and I want to get back into the swing of things here at MWBR.

What's been revealed in the past week is more and more of Lindsay the tiny individual, instead of The Baby. She follows the elephant around in a circle on the mobile above her changing table. I swear up and down that she's given me a glimpse of a smile twice, but I have no evidence of that. Just a little something between a girl and her daddy. She lies on her back and observes and kicks and yelps. She spent more than 20 hours in the car over the course of three days and was a happy/sleepy tiny rockstar for 95% of that...including dozing in Nicola's arms through a 21-gun salute at a military cemetary overlooking the San Diego harbor.

Mom and Dick arrived tonight for their first meeting with their new granddaughter. Ella's here with us and has bounced back from a Thursday funk that led to an early exit from school and an out-of-nowhere "nap" at 6 p.m....not to mention a few tears.

Oh, and the Tar Heels are in the Final Four! It's been somewhat anticlimactic, as I spent last weekend's games twitchy and waiting for something to go wrong and end UNC's season. Now the pressure is on the Heels as the most-talented team left. Instead of sweating it, I should shake off the doldrums and just keep believing that this "year" is different (I use year loosely, because it and this theory started with the Sox last fall).

What else...saw Nicola's family in Vista/San Diego for Robert (Bob) Campbell's funeral. Made me wish I'd had time to get to know the gentleman better. We plowed through California's Central Valley on I-5...that's a boring route if I've ever seen one, and full of juicy yellow and red insects (I'll post a picture to document this). As I mentioned Lindsay was great for almost the whole time, including sprawling on a double bed in her first hotel.

I'm sure there are other observations I'm missing...like the power and poignancy of "Taps"...took me back to my own grandfather's funeral at Arlington National Cemetary.

More recaps to come. Go Heels!!

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